Motorcycle Misadventures
by lilacs and lolita
Summary: Naomi goes out biking, picking up the infamous leather-clad chocolatier Mello. During this venture, it involves subtle groping and seduction which eventually leads to a breathless entanglement neither of them can stop. Mello/Naomi crackfic
1. Chapter 1

**Motorcycle Misadventures**

**Author's Note**: Surprisingly, this was inspired by Family Guy. Also, I wrote this piece for the lulz. Dedicated to Lynx Tiger, kamiringo, xThe Vampire Armandx, and everyone who loves Naomi Misora and realize her greatness.

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**Chapter 1**  
A flare of engines and deafening noise rumbled the ground with near apocalyptic intensity. Naomi's gloved hands tightly gripped the handles of her bike for support, the world streaming past in a phantasmal blur near dizzying in a whirl of vertigo. The only thing heard was the constant vibrations of sound waves from the motorcycle's relentless rumbling, where everything became a deafening bass pulsing in one ear and out the other. Ah, such sweet release this was, this beautiful ecstasy. There was something breathlessly exhilarating about biking, a liberating feeling greater than sex and money and power rolled into one. Naomi always experienced the rush every time she mounted her beloved bike and set the engines roaring in their infernal glory.

After a few moments of getting her adrenaline racing, heart throbbing with delirious excitement, Naomi heard a vaguely familiar voice call out to her. Pushing the brake, Naomi looked towards the direction the voice came from, only to gaze upon a leather-clad blond. Recognizing the individual as Mello, Naomi said, "Need a ride somewhere?"

"Not in particular," Mello said. "Just wanna hitch a ride to cruise around."

"All right, hop on. Don't think of it as a date or anything, though--I'm doing it because you're a friend of L. Besides, Raye happens to be a first-rate sniper."

"Same satiric wit as always, Naomi."

Straddling the bike, leather pants creaking with his movements, Naomi then drove off again once Mello perched himself in a secure position. A few moments into the ride, Mello began to fidget. Naomi didn't pay much mind to Mello's restless shifting on the seat behind her; not at first, anyway, though his constant fidgeting became suspiciously frequent. When Naomi paused at a stoplight, she noticed something peculiar. Rather, she felt something hard press frantically against the back of her jeans, which molded itself lovingly against her taut buttocks. Whipping her head around to glare at the leather-clad blond behind her, Naomi shouted, "Mello!"

"Shouldn't you keep your eyes on the road?" Mello said, maintaining a completely poker expression upon his normally mercurial features. Despite the awkward position both of them were currently in, Mello made no move to make Naomi more comfortable. He remained firmly planted on the leather seat, and Naomi swore the pressure hardened against the back of her pants even more. At this point, Naomi remained too irritated to be embarrassed, though red tinted her cheeks, all the same.

"What the hell!"

"It's the vibration."

"…"

"…"

A few moments silence, with nothing but the purring motorcycle and city ambience surrounding them. Naomi eventually set her gaze forward, willing the infernal red light to convert to green.

"Mello…"

"What?"

"Keep your arms below the chest."

Mello situated his arms lower, sliding them further than Naomi preferred, fingers laced together and forcing Naomi into some odd embrace that only shifted the increasingly stiffening protrusion directly into the seat of her pants.

"And _above_ the waist."

"Not my fault your breasts are in the way."

Biting back a sarcastic response, Naomi forced her gaze ahead as the light finally turned green. Driving across the smooth-paved road, Naomi visibly relaxed from the awkward situation at the stoplight. Before she could enjoy five minutes of relaxation, however, she felt a gloved hand seeking purchase inside her pants. Even though Naomi probably should have, she didn't brake the motorcycle right there to give the bastard a serious case of whiplash. Glaring through a side-glance towards Mello, managing to keep the road ahead in her peripheral vision, Naomi grated a barely restrained tone through gritted teeth, "What are you trying to pull?"

"I take this as a token of victory," Mello said, a lazy smirk sprawled across his lips while he spread his fingers out, stretching the fabric of lacy black panties.

"Raye gave those to me, you bastard!"

"I suppose he gave you the matching bra, too?"

"…?"

Indeed, Mello managed to swipe her bra as well…he probably took it while he was groping her at the stoplight. Narrowing her eyes further towards Mello, which only elicited another smirk from him, Mello then said, "I know I'm orgasmic and all, but you really should keep your eyes on the road."

A chill wind rose, and Naomi could feel her nipples stiffen against the fabric of her shirt, rubbing the material with overwhelming hypersensitivity that caused further stimulation. She fancied the cool air gliding itself across the contrasting contours of her body caused them to stiffen, not arousal from Mello's unusual seduction techniques. Just how he managed to remove both her underwear and bra without her noticing and still leaving her clothed remained a mystery she didn't care to fathom.

However, Mello proved to be _very_ distracting. The aforementioned erection still remained pressed against her firm behind, nearly conforming into the cleft of her buttocks outlined by her tight jeans. Mello had shamelessly positioned himself in an extremely compromising position as well, pressing his legs against her and hunching over her. Finally, much to Naomi's horror, riding her motorcycle without underwear felt damn _nice_. The vibration sent pleasurable waves between her legs, making Naomi intimately aware of her growing arousal. Naomi tried to convince herself it was the motorcycle vibration that elicited a carnal satisfaction inside her, not Mello.

As Naomi digested these details, Mello leaned forward, allowing himself better access to her ample breasts. Gloved hands groped the rounded mounds filling out her form fitting shirt. His fingers teased the suggestive outlines of nipples protruding from the confining fabric, pressing them inwards with ghost-like pressure. After pressing inwards and outwards a couple of times, Mello pushed her breasts together, accentuating her already defined cleavage. Mello then methodically measured them in his hands, allowing their weight to rest upon his palms, before allowing them to drop down in place, seemingly hypnotized by this display. Breath hitched, Naomi's voice unconsciously took on a husky quality as she said, "Mello, I'm going to be engaged to Raye."

"That's never stopped me before with you."

"For Christ's sake, Mello, we're on a motorcycle!"

Instead of answering, Mello squeezed her breasts, clenching and unclenching as though they were stress toys. He then leaned forward and whispered. "Is that the vibration or am I just one sexy motherfucker?"

Despite Mello's repeated advice of keeping her eyes on the road, Naomi stared down at the now slickening junction between her legs. The crotch of her jeans contained an astonishing darkened spot. The vibration continued on with maddening intensity, causing involuntary tremors to course throughout Naomi's body, an action not unnoticed by Mello. A soft chuckle reached her ears, infuriating in its lazy arrogance. He continued fondling her, alternatively massaging them with unrestrained fervor and with an almost amorous gentleness. Naomi struggled to keep her foot pressed against the pedal, near delirious from unchained pleasure. Flushing, Naomi focused her gaze once more, skillfully dodging a potential accident with a red sports car before she lost control.

"Quite impressive," Mello noted. "Think you can re-enact that stunt in bed?"

"Mello, I can't drive with you being distracting."

"Let me drive, then. Keep your foot on the pedal--I'll tell you when to stop."

Before Naomi could even object to his outlandish proposition, Mello completely leaned over her, deliberately rubbing his hardened shaft against her behind as he did so, pressing himself against Naomi and making her intimately aware of his remarkable hard-on. Overlapping his hands over Naomi's, Mello performed smoother riding than Naomi expected.

"Stop here," Mello said after a while, to which Naomi gracefully braked with a fluid movement of her foot. A moderate sized apartment stood before them. After killing the power, Mello lingered a few moments longer, before peeling himself off. Naomi reluctantly got off the motorcycle, kicking the kickstand up.

"Give me my bra and underwear," Naomi said.

"Shouldn't you be worrying more about a shower?"

"I'd rather have them up front in case you decide to pilfer them."

Mello paused for a few moments, languidly rubbing the back of his neck, seemingly considering the idea. The prolonged time it took for Mello made Naomi think he_ wouldn't _give back the precious articles of her clothing, before he produced Naomi's bra out from the front of his pants.

"All right, I'll give you your bra on good faith. However, I'll give you your underwear after you take a shower."

"You're bartering my underwear?"

"I'm giving you the bra. Just take that shower, or I might have to tell Raye I have proof he has good taste in underwear."

"I'm not sure I want it back after it came from a dubious area."

"You see any pockets on me? It was the only logical place to put them."

All said with a straight face. Naomi resisted the urge to roll her eyes and kick Mello's unmentionables to the stratosphere while swiping her confiscated panties, but having more decency than that, Naomi decided that showering came first on her list of priorities. Then she would hike her boot in Mello's crotch, before giving him a nice prostate massage with the barrel of her Glock 26 for good measure. The image held a tempting prospect to it, though Naomi, unfortunately, didn't have her Glock with her. As for making Mello a one-egger, Naomi put considerable debate into it, before deciding it wasn't worth the trouble. Besides, she didn't want to put her hand in his pants.

Stepping through the threshold into the modest apartment kept neat enough, though a few articles of clothing haphazardly sprawled across the couch and a few video games had been scattered across the floor, Naomi hesitated for a few moments as Mello stepped in beside her.

"Since you've made a fine mess of your jeans, I could offer you a pair of my pants," Mello stated casually, as though this was perfectly normal. "It would go with your leather jacket."

"…No thanks."

Without another word, Naomi then tread through the room, finding her way to the bathroom easily enough on the left side of the hallway, which was, surprisingly, tidier than the rest of the apartment. Closing the door and locking it, Naomi then slipped out of her pants first, examining the stain she made. She winced at the sizeable stain that soaked the crotch of her pants, before setting it aside and taking off her shirt, then her jacket. No need to strip her underwear, as Mello already took care of that.

Turning on the showerhead, Naomi waited a few moments for the water to heat up. Once condensed steam produced a dream-like haze, Naomi stepped in with subconscious elegance that belied her hardcore FBI reputation. Lathering water against her lightly muscled form, water pearl droplets decorated her body, enhancing her feminine splendor. Teasing trails caressed the swan-like arch of her neck, the graceful curve of her shoulders, the concavity of her stomach, the roundness of her hips, the tautness of her thighs, and the sleekness of her calves. Reaching out towards the shampoo bottle, Naomi raised a brow.

_Chocolate shampoo? _Naomi thought, before shrugging and figured it wouldn't hurt. Applying some within the palm of her hand, Naomi then generously applied it into the dark lush of her hair. Naomi reached out for the body wash, which was also chocolate. Amazed that chocolate body wash even existed (let alone chocolate shampoo), Naomi then lathered the curious solution across her body, massaging it into the skin. After allowing the water to rinse her body completely of the substance, Naomi then stepped out of the shower, shrouded in the fragrance of chocolate spreading throughout the steam-filled shower room in a similar manner of a genie's essence spewing forth from the confinement of his lamp.

Squeezing water droplets from her hair, Naomi stepped over to the cabinet where she assumed the towels were. When she opened the door, she found nothing there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: …I don't even know what this is either. I've since disregarded all notions of this fanfiction being taken seriously. Not that it was meant to be taken seriously, aha. I've had this chapter floating around my computer for a while, though I decided not to post it until…now. I don't have any pretensions about this fanfiction, it's beyond derailment. Perhaps one of these days, I will clean up the fanfiction and make it read more smoothly and clean up the prose. Actually, now that I think of it, all my writings probably require a lot of cleaning up. Hm. Still, if you actually enjoy the lulzy ventures inspired by Family Guy, read on!

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**Chapter 2**  
Naomi blinked, staring at the empty cabinets with a blank gaze, as though the towels would magically materialize on the wooden shelves the longer she stared. As the minutes prolonged, Naomi stared around the bathroom in a dream-like daze, searching for other possible places the towels could be. As far as she could see, no towel rack adorned the walls. The bathroom itself remained a simple structure that didn't leave many imaginative hiding places--there was only a shower, a toilet (with the toilet seat still up, Naomi noted) and the cabinet she looked through. Nothing.

"Mello?" Naomi called out, her voice reverberating throughout the bathroom with an odd, surrealistic effect.

No response. Naomi called out a second time, with only the silence greeting her. Growing irritated with Mello's lack of response, Naomi bit her lip softly, contemplating her options. She could always stay in the bathroom, though Naomi didn't like the idea of waiting around for Mello to finally answer her. Naomi, by nature, was a person with an initiative to take action. Naomi could always search for towels in another part of the house, but the ridiculousness of the entire situation, from the motorcycle misadventure she shared with Mello and the peculiar absence of towels remained vexing. Surprisingly, an FBI Agent, particularly a top-ranking one such as herself, had limits.

"Damn panty-swiping thief," Naomi muttered to herself. Her hand rested against the knob, hesitating for a few moments. Even though Naomi didn't want to sit around in the bathroom, she didn't like the idea of walking around naked with the chance of Mello spotting her. When Naomi considered it, she began to have the faint suspicion that Mello set up the scenario of foreplay on the motorcycle, making her secrete herself with sex fluids, using her underwear as blackmail material, before taking her to his apartment to have her shower and find no towels to dry herself with. Then, this would lead her to wandering his apartment in search for towels, which gave him the perfect opportunity to view her unclothed body.

Shivering, Naomi shook her head, causing water droplets to spray in a dazzle of water-drop pearls. Mello couldn't have set this entire scenario up. Everything about it remained incredulous to Naomi, a renowned FBI agent known for her calculating cool and astute deductive abilities. Trying to rationalize the situation with Mello gave her a throbbing headache. Opening the door, Naomi peered out, only exposing her head while the rest of her body remained hidden behind the door.

"Stop jacking around. This isn't funny. Where are the towels?"

Mello still didn't answer. Frowning, Naomi crossed the threshold, arms shielding her breasts from view. Hunching her back against the wall and peering around the corner with furtiveness that rivaled a ninja's ability for stealth, Naomi didn't see any sign of Mello. Arms still wrapped around her chest, Naomi then sidled against the wall. Naomi focused ahead for signs of Mello like a sniper intent on a target, her peripheral vision as fine focused as a telescopic sight.

Once Naomi made it through the hallway to another corner, Naomi peered around with the same furtive glance, her heart pounding in her head like something heard in a delirium. Suddenly, Naomi became aware of inherent ridiculousness of her actions--here she was, applying her FBI training while completely _naked_. After staring around the corner for a few moments, Naomi then heard a voice behind her that startled her heartbeat into sporadic, jackrabbit leaps.

"Looking for this?"

Mello reached over Naomi's smaller frame and dangled a white towel in her vision. Naomi imagined he wore that same infuriating smirk he always wore when he knew he succeeded in pulling off whatever stunt he performed on her. Snatching the towel, Naomi wrapped it around her form, which only revealed the barest suggestion of her curves. Whipping around to glare at Mello, Naomi met green eyes crinkled in amusement at her expense.

"You shouldn't walk around naked in another man's apartment, you know," Mello said in a far too casual tone. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to seduce me."

"Cut the crap, Mello. You planned for all this to happen, didn't you?"

Mello managed to form a convincingly surprised expression upon his features, eyebrows raised in disbelief at her statement.

"Come on, Naomi, I didn't think that far ahead. Even I'm not that brilliant."

"…"

Seemingly undeterred by her caustic silence, Mello remarked, "Aren't you going to dry off? You're getting the floor wet."

"Didn't you just say that I shouldn't be walking around naked in a man's apartment? You're blocking the way back to the bathroom where I can dry off."

"You had no problem exposing your ass to me."

"...Excuse me?"

"I was behind you the entire time."

At this point, Naomi stopped trying to rationalize the situation whatsoever. However Mello managed to pull off the maneuver with her underwear and panties, and now the stunt with him stalking behind her while she was looking for towels, Naomi didn't care. All she knew was that Mello started to grate her nerves. It didn't help that he bluntly eyed her, allowing his gaze to roam over his body as slowly as possible, letting Naomi know perfectly well what he was doing. That obscene smirk still remained plastered upon his lips, Mello continued staring down at the space where her breasts formed a defined cleft.

Gritting her teeth, Naomi shoved past him, only to hear that unnerving laugh echo behind her. Slamming the door shut, Naomi then continued drying herself off. Throwing her head forward, causing dark strands to form a veil, Naomi rubbed her hair to the roots. She proceeded to dry off the rest of her body with more aggressive flourish than needed, causing her skin to slightly redden in some areas.

"Damn chocolate-eating prick," Naomi muttered to herself. "How the hell does he pull off most of those stunts, anyway?"

Once completely dried off, Naomi went to hang the towel on a silver rack before she then realized that her jeans, jacket, and shirt were nowhere in sight. Frustration nearing its peak, Naomi heard a slight shifting on the floorboards outside the bathroom. Brows furrowed, Naomi silently stepped toward the door, and immediately slammed it open without warning. A satisfying thud ensued from her malice.

"Christ," Mello said, apparently having enough reflexes to take the brunt of her attack with his right shoulder. "That's why they call you Misora Massacre, right?"

"What are you doing outside the bathroom door?"

"I cleaned your clothes for you."

"…Eh?"

Sure enough, Mello held up her beloved jeans, completely spot-free. Grabbing the recently warmed material, Naomi eyed it suspiciously, unbelieving Mello would go out of his way to do something so considerate. Naturally, Naomi was alarmed at this seemingly harmless gesture. After everything Mello performed today, well, she had to keep her guard up.

"You have my underwear, don't you?" Naomi stated cautiously.

"…Right," Mello said, as though he completely forgot the deal he enacted with her. Reaching his hand in his pants, Mello groped around for a while, making it suspiciously look like he was masturbating in front of her. After a few moments of grasping in his pants, Mello then revealed her lacy black underwear and held it toward her.

"You can have it," Mello said all too casually.

Fearing the implications of his tone, Naomi said, "…What exactly were you doing?"

"I was wearing it," Mello said, as though this was normal behavior. "It's the best way to ensure no one else would steal it. They'd have to reach into my pants and--"

"Never mind," Naomi stated, shaking her head at Mello's antics as she began examining her underwear, stretching the lacy material out with her fingers. How Mello managed to fit the revealing fabric upon his form without any signs of discomfort amazed her more than Mello's unexplainable stunt.

"It's a long ride back to your place," Mello stated, saying this in his infuriatingly casual tone. "It's also getting late. Why don't you stay here for the night?"

"…It's suspiciously sounding like you've planned all of this out. From the groping on the motorcycle, taking me to your place to get a shower, and swiping the towel..."

"Don't think too much on it, Naomi. Wanna watch some TV or something?"

A defeated sigh.

"Might as well."

"So," Mello said, "Is Raye giving you a good time? That maneuver back on the motorcycle--I didn't teach you that one."

"Mello!" Naomi finally cried out in frustration. "Just…just stop, okay? Stop the flirting, the stunts…all of it!"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, girl. You allow me to have my way with you because you know that Raye Penbar is an obnoxious prick."

Without any warning whatsoever, Naomi reared back her hand and slapped the blond smartly against the face.

"Don't talk about Raye that way."

"Pardon me for not being blunt enough. Raye's a chauvinistic bastard--and before you slap me again, Naomi, I'm being dead serious. Did you ever consider the possibility that Raye is…how do I put this tactfully…a prick?"

Ramming Mello against the wall, Naomi easily held the taller blond's form in an effective pin, her knee situated directly between his crotch.

"I've had it up to this point. Listen, Mello, I don't appreciate you talking crap about my fiancé."

Then something hit the FBI agent.

"…How the hell could you possibly have an erection?"

Sure enough, Mello's protrusion brushed against her kneecap, and Mello was grinning like a goddamned fool the entire time. Naomi should've kicked him in the balls right then, in an act of decency, she restrained herself. Mello, still grinning, acted nonchalant during the entire ordeal, staring at her with green eyes that were the picture of serenity. Before Naomi could react, she felt his lips leave a super-imposed pressure of heat against her own. This time, Naomi _did_ kick Mello's testicles.

"…I take back what I said earlier. This is the reason why they call you Misora Massacre."

Unfortunately, Mello didn't seem fazed. At all. Naomi had a faint suspicion Mello actually enjoyed her generous application of her kneecap struck against his privates. In fact, the blond leaned further into her offending knee, confirming her suspicions.

Realizing this, Naomi leapt backward, staring at Mello warily. A shit-eating grin was plastered across his features, though Naomi no longer had the frustration or energy to feel anger toward him. Finally relenting, Naomi then said, "Listen, I'll simply forget this conversation didn't even happen. I'll forget the motorcycle stunt, everything, as long as you don't mention Raye. Please?"

"Since you asked so nicely, I'll consider it."

"Mello."

"In all the time we've been talking, you could have gotten changed by now."

Naomi simply slammed the door in his face at this point, mortified beyond reason. Damn him, damn him for constantly harassing her and humiliating her in every conceivable way. Naomi Misora would not allow Mihael Keehl to get away with such a transgression. Throwing her towel in a corner, Naomi slipped into her jeans (disregarding the underwear, which she simply tucked into her jean pocket), then her shirt, and her trademark leather jacket. She then brushed all the tangles out of her hair, brushing hard enough to cause pain in the roots, before slamming the brush on the counter. If Naomi had her gun, she would've pistol-whipped that bastard's teeth out. That would shatter his ego, losing a couple of his pearly whites. He could afford to lose a couple, especially after all he did.

Taking a deep breath, Naomi opened the door and walked out with as much dignity as she could muster. Mello stood in front of her, smiling. "Why don't you lay down for a while?"

Naomi stiffened, though she simply nodded her head and allowed him to escort her. When she settled herself down on the couch, she finally realized how tired she was. Completely wearied to her bones, Naomi forgot all about her suspicions and her previous anger toward Mello. God, she really could use a nap right now, even if it was in a mediocre apartment with some underwear stealing jackass who found it amusing to play dirty stunts on her.

"You're not going to do anything weird, are you?" Naomi murmured, already half-asleep.

"I swear to God I won't do anything. I'll even give you my rosary if I'm lying."

"Mm."

She felt herself spiraling away now, grateful to temporarily escape from all the crazy events she suffered today, before drifting off to sleep.


End file.
